


Guardian

by Zoi no miko (zoi_no_miko)



Category: Legion (2010)
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Post canon, Request Meme, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-04
Updated: 2013-03-04
Packaged: 2017-12-04 07:02:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoi_no_miko/pseuds/Zoi%20no%20miko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael thanks Jeep for still shining through the darkness the world has fallen under.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guardian

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BatchSan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BatchSan/gifts).



_"When God chose your kind as the object of his love I was the first in all heaven to bow down before you. My love, my hope for mankind was no less than his.  
But I have watched you trample that gift. I've watched you kill each other over race and greed, waging war over dust, rubble and words in old books.  
And yet in the midst of all this darkness I see some people who will not be bound.  
I see some people who will not give up even when they know all hope is lost.  
Some people who realize that being lost is so close to being found.  
I see you, Jeep.  
You are the reason I still have faith._

***

_I see you, Jeep._

He isn't surprised when Michael meets him at the door of the trailer they're staying in. They've been going from place to place just like the directions have told them to, taking the baby to the little bands of people that band together to fight the possessed. In their wake, the fight becomes triumphant. Perhaps by his second birthday they will begin to settle down again. To live normal lives.

Michael is a shadow in the darkness, wings tucked tight against his back so that he looks almost human, just another human carrying an overstuffed bag of supplies. But Jeep will always know the truth. "Come with me," Michael murmurs, barely audible, but even then Jeep can hear that particular timbre in his voice, that quality that has always made his heart skip a beat whenever Michael speaks.

In the canyons of the desert it's easy to get away, to find a quiet place out of sight of the main encampment. This area has been cleansed of the possessed, guarded by shifts of sentries. It wouldn't matter if it wasn't. He'd always feel safe with Michael.

"You saved us," he murmurs, and as his eyes adjust to the darkness, to the light of the moon above, he can see a slight smile on Michael's face. "Your wings...."

"I have been reinstated," Michael replies quietly, stepping close enough that Jeep doesn't have to strain to hear the archangel's low purr, and he feels his pulse beat faster. "He was very pleased with our actions. With your actions, Jeep. It brought about the change of heart I was looking for. He understands that parts of humanity are still worthy of his love."

"Then why are we still fighting?" The question has been at the tip of his tongue ever since the night he last saw Michael, watched those magnificent wings unfurl and carry the archangel away.

Michael's hands curl around his biceps, warm and strong through his thin cotton t-shirt. "Not all of humanity has proven itself. This is why your work is so important."

He leans in closer, enough that Jeep can feel the warmth of his breath on his skin. He wants to close the inches between them to let his lips press to Michael's, wants it so badly it almost hurts. He's always wanted it, even when he was protecting Charlie. He loves Charlie fiercely, but it doesn't feel like this, doesn't make his knees weak and his chest ache. It would be sacrilegious to touch Michael like he wants to, like he's imagined so many times.

Perhaps Michael can sense his thoughts, or perhaps this was his plan all along. He leans in without saying anything else, and his lips are warm and yearning as they press to Jeep's, his arms slipping around his waist, strong and secure. He kisses Jeep silently, again and again, driving every thought from his mind but the thought of this, of pleasure and elation and the strength that shivers through him from every place Michael's body touches his own.

Michael presses him back against the canyon wall, kissing along his jaw, knowing somehow exactly what he's been longing for, the roughness of Michael's jaw against his own skin, the caress of his hands. "I've been watching over you," Michael murmurs, low and husky, and his fingers curl around the hardness of Jeep's cock through his jeans, squeezing gently, rubbing him through the rough fabric. "I will always watch over you, Jeep."

Jeep's breath comes fast, his hands clenching at Michael's shoulders, feeling not the Archangel's armor but the thin fabric of human clothes, Michael's body warm and strong underneath. He bites his lip on a whimper as Michael tugs the closure of his jeans undone, sword-calloused fingers sliding down his stomach and into his boxers to take him in hand. The whisper of Michael's fingers up the underside of his cock sends a flood of warmth through him - pleasure, desire, sensual gratification - but there is something else in it too, a fortifying warmth that tingles through his limbs, makes every nerve in his body sing, warm and strong and at peace.

"The child is what saved the world, but you are what drew me," Michael murmurs, lips caressing his skin with his words as he strokes him, slow and sure, thumb whispering over the head of his cock. "Your love drew me. Still draws me. Sustains me." The words are as intoxicating as his touch, as Michael's words always have been, and Jeep holds tighter, gasping in pleasure, keeping himself from crying out with every remaining bit of willpower. It's hard, so hard when Michael is commanding his body so expertly, coaxing him ever closer to release.

"I will always watch over you," Michael tells him, voice thick with emotion, adoration, devotion. "Even if you can't see me. I'll always be with you. I promise you that." Then he seals his mouth over Jeep's, swallowing his cries as he tumbles over the precipice, pleasure rushing through him in harsh shudders as he spends himself in Michael's hand.

"Thank you," Michael whispers, and presses his lips to Jeep's forehead, a tingling warmth remaining when they pull away. "Thank you, Jeep," he says again, stepping back, pulling away.

He feels a rush of wind, and then Michael is gone. But when he returns to the spot in daylight, a single, perfect black feather remains, and when he picks it up, a shiver of warmth runs through him.

~~~


End file.
